Wild Wing Boys
by wild horse
Summary: AC208. Heero stands accused of Duo’s murder. Zechs reassembles the gw boys for war, hiring a mercenary, Solo, as pilot 02. As things get desperate, Heero and Solo are running away from too much yet headed for the same destination – selfdestruction.


Title: Wild Wing Boys

Summary: AC208. Heero is in prison for confessing to murdering Duo before Zechs bails him out and assembles the original gw boys for a series of missions, choosing, in place of Duo, a wise-cracking pilot who calls himself Solo. As Zechs gets desperate, Heero, totally driven by the mission, and Solo, devoid of all emotion, are running in different directions, unwilling to acknowledge the connection between them, but each headed for the same destination – self-destruction.

Author's Note: In case nobody has realised, "Wild Wing Boys" is one of Duo's character image songs :D and one of my favourites, as well. Another thing is that I've come pretty far since my last fic, which I wrote without watching a single episode, in that I've almost finished with the GW anime :D . Hence I put in quite a few not-too-obvious references to stuff in the anime and the manga which are nice but which, if you missed them, aren't all that important. I hope. Anyway, enough said. Thank you for reading.

"_Hope is nature's veil for hiding truth's nakedness." – Alfred B. Nobel_

A.C. 208

Prologue

Morning.

He opened his eyes, squinting instinctively against the harsh, white light. Though he couldn't see the rising sun or any other sign that it was morning, he knew it was. The lights came on, without fail, at six a.m. sharp, every single day, and never abandoned their vicious assault until six p.m.

At least, that was what the guards had told him, and, over the years, he had grown to believe it. Not that it mattered, of course. He was never going to get out. Not ever.

_I've lived through another day._

Looking at the wall opposite the hard wooden plank that was his bunk, he ran his eyes over the familiar collection of short, thin lines. Some of them were a brighter red, others had faded to an almost-invisible rusty brown.

_Ten years, I think. Ten years; at least._

He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the inevitable blood rush that brought spots to his vision.

_One more to add._

Short, ragged fingernails tore gently through the skin on his left forefinger. He was too accustomed to the pain to feel anything, and he watched, mesmerised, as the bright-red liquid welled up from within. It told him he was still alive.

Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he touched the finger to the wall, pulled it down for a short distance, then brought it away.

_Ten years and thirty-six days._

Laying his head against the cool wall, he closed his eyes. He had stopped wondering if he would ever be free again. For the last five years, he had not even glimpsed the sun's golden rays, or felt its warmth. All there was was a sterile coldness and darkness, and the white light. Sometimes, he almost wished the light would go away, leave him in the dark. It was better that way, to have no hope, because, every time he saw the light, he was bound by a promise he'd made a long time ago.

One he could not ever break.

'_As long as light remains, there is hope.'_

It was some minutes before the face came to memory, still youthful, still stuck at the same age he had been ten years ago. He forced his eyes open, trying to shut out the memory, but it persisted, and he finally relented.

The roguish grin, the sparkling violet eyes dancing with laughter and joy. That was all he could remember. After years of trying to forget, all the other things had faded, but these still remained. He knew he should just wipe out the memory, but it refused to go, clinging on stubbornly, much like the person it was about.

_Duo, you'll never go away, will you?_

_Even though you're dead; even though I killed you._

It didn't matter whether he had actually killed Duo or not. Maybe he hadn't, but, he'd grown to believe he did. And so he knew he'd killed his best friend.

That wasn't why he was in prison though.

"_This man is guilty of war crimes, too hideous for most of us to even imagine…"_

Maybe that had been it, but he was sure he knew what had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

"_Look at how he hunted down and killed a man in cold blood, for revenge. And he didn't just commit murder; he _tortured _his victim to death."_

Yes. That was the reason.

"_You can't disarm a weapon, and you can't de-train a person who's become a killing machine…for the safety of all us innocent civilians out here who just want to live our lives in peace, I think this man should be given life imprisonment."_

Cobalt eyes flew open, ignoring the painful glare of the fluorescent lighting.

_I did it for you, Duo._

A loud 'thunk' interrupted his thoughts as his breakfast was shoved through the slot in the thick metal door.

* * *

"I/D number 182956J. Are you sure this is the right man, sir?" the prison warden, a man old enough to remember the wars of nearly fifteen years ago, looked up from his computer screen. All of a sudden, two strange people had appeared in his office to demand the release of one of the prisoners under maximum security. He'd protested, but they had papers signed by some military general and the papers had checked out as official. Plus, they were rather insistent. One was a lady with short hair but sharp eyes and a wry smile, the other was a tall, imperious fellow with long pale hair tied into a ponytail – definitely not the latest fashion.

The blonde-haired man he was talking to bent down a little and peered at the screen. There was a photo of a handsome young man with tousled brown hair and keen, dark-blue eyes. Definitely, it had been taken some years back, but it matched with the one he had in his file.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Sir, this prisoner is very dangerous. He's been put under maximum security and in solitary confinement for over five years now."

"Zechs? Do you think he's still sane?" the lady asked softly.

The tall man was flipping through his file again. He ignored the lady's question. "Code-name Heero Yuy; no real name. I'm quite sure we'll want him."

"Okay," the lady looked uncertain, but she turned to the warden and nodded. "Please arrange for us to meet with him as soon as possible."

The warden looked as though he wanted to protest, but then he saluted and obeyed. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

He ate his breakfast in silence, wondering what he could do to consume the vast amount of time that lay between now and the return of the darkness.

Loneliness had never really been an issue with him. Being lonely came from wanting to be with someone, but there was no one he wanted to be with. Not anymore.

As for suicide, he was past it already. It wasn't as though he hadn't tried, but, after a while, he realised it would never work out.

He looked at his pale, bony hands; balled them up into fists and studied the even whiter knuckles. Once, a long time ago, they would have had the strength to break a person's neck in a second, but now…he knew the years of not having enough to eat and being cramped up in a small cell for nearly the whole day had taken their toll on his body, and, though he would not admit it, his spirit, as well.

Now, it was just waiting, just living day by day, just…hoping. Because he knew he could not break the promise he'd made to Duo. Maybe one day, he wouldn't wake up, wouldn't have to meet the light again. But that was just maybe.

* * *

The man called Zechs strode through the corridors, eyes fixed on the two guards right in front of him, not wandering anywhere else, avoiding the haunted gazes of the prisoners in their cells. He hated prisons, though he understood why they were needed, but, right now, he was on a recruitment mission.

"What did he get in for? I remember a trial, but not many of the details," the lady asked.

"Torture, then murder. And…" he paused for awhile, "he also confessed to the killing of a guy named Duo, apparently his best friend, but this was never confirmed."

The lady thought for a while, "Do you think he's psycho?"

"Could be," Zechs answered in a non-committal tone, "You would be too, if you stayed around in this crummy place for long enough. But that's not important. We need him for our mission, and that's all. Besides, his military record is excellent."

* * *

There were voices, outside his cell.

He snapped to attention, muscles tensed. Some habits were hard to break.

He couldn't hear what was being said though, but it was definitely more interesting than counting cracks in the wall or staring off into blank space. He supposed all the spare time was for the prisoners to do what the judges called reflection and repenting, but he had reflected on his actions, and was not in the least bit sorry.

_All this, it's worth it. I know it is. I had to do it, for him. It's the least I could've done._

There was the usual screech as the bolt was drawn back, and he sat down on his bunk.

_Nothing to get excited about. So what if it's unusual? I'm not getting out._

The familiar click as the lock was deactivated, then someone kicked the door open. Besides the guards – he ignored them totally – there were two other people, a man and a lady who looked vaguely familiar.

"You're Heero Yuy?" the shorter person asked quietly.

_Heero? Was that my name? It seems so._ He didn't show any reaction.

"Well, you are," the man continued, undisturbed. "I know you're still sane, more or less, and I've come to you with a proposal."

He looked up from examining his fingers, but did not say anything. It was so long since he'd spoken to anybody, he'd almost forgotten how to, and didn't exactly care to remember right now.

"We'll let you out, on condition that you do us a few favours."

Eyes closed in disbelief. Out? Did he really mean it? It was some time before the words came to mind and he could form them into something comprehensible. "What kind of favours?"

"I'll tell you in a while. But first, are you with us, or not?" the man was certainly shrewd.

His gaze shifted to the red marks on the wall, too many to count easily. For a while, he actually wanted to stay, and that baffled him. But then…

_As long as there is light, there will be hope. You can't stop hoping, and when it comes true, you have to go for it._

He searched for words again, and they came a little more easily. "I'm with you."

* * *

TBC… 


End file.
